


Holiday Baking Championship

by Labyrinth_Runner



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Awesome Padmé Amidala, F/M, Festival of Light, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Naboo Culture and Customs (Star Wars), Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obidala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Labyrinth_Runner/pseuds/Labyrinth_Runner
Summary: When Padmé misses the Festival of Light while staying on Coruscant, Obi-Wan Kenobi decides to bring a little bit of Naboo to her.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Holiday Baking Championship

“How hard could it be?” Obi-Wan asked aloud as he looked at the holo of perfectly baked five blossom bread that was projected in front of his face.

“Have you ever made it before, Sir?” Threepio asked.

“Well, no, but I have the recipe. If I follow that, it should come out perfectly fine,” Obi-Wan replied as he perused over the cookbook.

“Due to your lack of experience and the difficulty of the recipe, my calculations have you coming in at a success rate of 15 percent,” Threepio said triumphantly.

Obi-Wan gave him a withering look.

“Unless you have another skillset that I should take into account while determining the odds?” Threepio asked innocently.

Obi-Wan sighed and went to get the ingredients from the fridge. “Threepio, when does Senator Amidala get home? I would like this to be finished before she gets back. I know my friend is homesick for Naboo right now and I would love to cheer her up.”

“Well, she has a meeting with Senator Organa on her itinerary. Those usually run quite long.”

Obi-Wan smirked to himself. _Of course they did_ , he thought, _planning a rebellion was not something one could do in five minutes. ‘_

* * *

After dismissing the droid, he set to work, following the instructions to make the dough. He took off his obi, tailboard, and outer tunic after the sleeves kept getting dragged through the flour, draping the assortment of fabrics over the back of a chair. Obi-Wan covered the dough and left it to rise while he worked on the fruit filling and glaze.

“Threepio, you’re staring,” he commented as he felt the gaze of the droid.

“Master Kenobi, I am merely going to suggest that perhaps your dough is not rising as it should,” the droid murmured.

“It should be,” he said, crinkling his brow as he went over to take the cover off and inspect the dough. The droid was right. It was not rising. “I did everything correctly,” he murmured in thought as he went back over the instructions. 

“Perhaps baking it will make it rise?” Obi-Wan asked as he dropped the dough ball out on the countertop to roll out.

“Baking will not make it rise. Your success rate has dropped to ten percent for not understanding basic baking principles.”

Obi-Wan took a calming breath and rolled up his dark brown sleeves before following the rest of the instructions and placing the bread in the oven.

“And now we wait,” he said as he clapped the droid on the shoulder while walking by. He went out towards the Senator’s living room before folding himself in the lotus position to meditate while the bread cooked.

“Baking isn’t so hard,” he muttered to himself before slipping into the force.

Unfortunately, he lost all track of time.

“Master Kenobi,” Threepio said as he bend slightly at the waist above the Jedi Master.

“What is it, Threepio?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“Your bread is burning, Sir.”

“Oh, kriff!” Obi-Wan replied before jumping off the couch and rushing to the kitchen. He opened the oven and a plume of smoke came out. Grabbing a pot holder, he flapped them around as he used the force to open a window to let the smoke out. Then, he took the bread out and placed it on the countertop. He looked between the photo of perfection and the black, charred pile on his tray. This would not do.

“Ten percent, Sir,” Threepio replied.

“Does it increase if I make it again?” Obi-Wan asked.

“12 percent.”

“Only twelve? Does experience count for nothing?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously.

“Do you know where you went wrong?” Threepio asked.

“Well, no...” Obi-Wan trailed off as he looked up at Threepio.

Threepio didn’t have a facial expression other than the one he normally wore, but the droid’s unblinking nature made Obi-Wan feel as though the droid were judging him during their stare off.

“I’ll go get more ingredients,” Obi-Wan sighed before pulling his outer robe on and heading to the store.

While he was gone, Padmé returned from her meeting.

“Threepio, why does it smell as though my apartment is on fire?” Padmé called out.

“Oh! Mistress Padmé! I told him he only had a 10 percent success rate, but he didn’t listen to me-”

“Who?” she pressed.

“The Jedi.”

A small smile crossed her face as she moved to inspect the burnt mess on her countertop. “Obi-Wan was here?”

“Yes-”

Padmé noticed the rest of his clothes on a chair. _Odd_ , she thought, _he never undressed here,_ “He’s still here?”

“No-”

“Oh,” she said, face falling slightly. 

“But he’s coming back-”

“Lovely. I’ll go change so I can help him make...” she trailed off to take a bite of the burnt good. She got the faint hint of plum and smiled, “five blossom bread when he returns.”

“Yes, well-”

“In the mean time, could you please throw that out, Threepio? Thank you!” she said before going to change.

Threepio looked down at the burnt mess and sighed, “No one ever listens to me.” Sadly, he picked up the bread and dropped it into the trash chute.

Obi-Wan came back through the front door carrying bundles of supplies a short while later. “Alright, Threepio, I’m back and I’m sure the odds are better than 12 percent...” he trailed off as he found Padmé sitting on the kitchen counter. “Oh, hello there, darling. I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“I heard you could use some help,” she said with a small smile.

“No, I think I can handle it. Besides, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he murmured with a blush.

“Threepio, what’s his success rate again?” she asked.

“12 percent, Mistress Padmé,” the droid said matter-of-factly.

“And my success rate?” she asked with a bigger smile.

“88 percent,” he replied.

“And if we both work together?”

“95 percent. Provided that Master Kenobi does everything precisely as you tell him. It isn’t 100 percent, because I honestly do believe he’s a hopeless cause-”

“That’s enough, thank you, Threepio. If you don’t mind leaving us?” Padmé asked as she slipped off the counter to help Obi-Wan unpack the supplies.

Threepio bowed slightly and left.

“I think it’s sweet that you wanted to surprise me,” she murmured, pecking his cheek as she walked by.

“I wish I had been more successful,” he sighed.

“It’s a difficult recipe, but you’ll be a professional baker by the time I’m done with you,” she winked.

Step by step, she walked him through the recipe, mostly supervising as he did it on his own. Every once in a while, she’d step in to guide his hands. This time, the dough rose properly.

“You make it so easy,” he murmured in awe.

“You’re a good student, Obi-Wan,” she replied as she popped the bread in the oven. 

“I just wish I had been able to surprise you with it,” he smiled.

“I love that you even attempted to make five blossom bread for me,” she replied.

“I know how much you wanted to be home for the Festival of Light,” he said as he tucked a strand of hair out of her face. “This was the best I could do.”

“I appreciate it,” she said softly. “Do you have any holiday traditions?”

“The Jedi are not too big on holidays since most of us were raised on Coruscant, but Anakin and I would celebrate Boonta’s Eve together, and of course we sometimes observe Republic Day festivities,” he replied, suddenly getting wistful, “the best holiday I’ve ever observed, though, would have to be the Cordel Cove Winter Carnival on Neftali. Qui-Gon and I had been sent there to settle some issues, but i will never forget how beautiful the carnival was with all the ice sculptures and light refracting off them.”

“We’ll have to go sometime,” she said, reaching up to straighten the collar of his under tunic. “I think traditions are nice. It gives us something to look forward to.”

“Perhaps... this could be a new tradition?” he asked, brushing his thumb along the side of her face as he pushed a curl behind her ear.

“I would like that,” she said, raising her hand to cup his cheek. Gently, she stroked her thumb along his beard, brushing off some flour that had settled there.

Slowly, as if time were still, they started to lean in.

_Brrrrrrring!_

“Your bread seems to be ready,” Threepio said, peeking his head into the room. “I would say that, although I cannot smell, the lack of smoke seems to be a positive indication that it has not burned this time.”

Obi-Wan awkwardly cleared his throat as they broke apart, letting his hand fall to his side while Padmé went to take the bread out of the oven.

“Oh, its perfect,” she praised as she placed the tray on the table. “I can’t wait to try it after it cools.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan smiled, “I‘m glad. About earlier...” he trailed off, feeling like he should apologize for being that bold.

Instead, Padmé took his face in her hands and kissed him, stunning him to silence.

“I’m sorry we were interrupted, too,” Padmé said with a playful smile. “Happy Festival of Light, Obi-Wan.”

“Happy Festival of Light, darling,” Obi-Wan murmured.


End file.
